The Wistful Petal
The rain hammered the tin roof of the diner. It was a violent, rhythmic assault. Water pooled in the gutters. It spilled over the edges. It ran down the brick walls like sweat. Inside, the air was thick. It smelled of stale coffee. It smelled of wet wool. It smelled of fear. Elias sat in the corner. He wore his uniform. The fabric was stiff. It chafed his neck. The badge on his chest was a cold...
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